


Home

by haventacluewhatimdoing



Series: Inktober52 2021 [2]
Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: 1940s, Button House (Ghosts TV 2019), Character Study, Gen, Introspection, It's pretty grim to start with, No Dialogue, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Captain (Ghosts TV 2019) Backstory, World War I, World War II, description of war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28619058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haventacluewhatimdoing/pseuds/haventacluewhatimdoing
Summary: The Captain thinks about belonging.
Series: Inktober52 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095656
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





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**Author's Note:**

> Hello! First one of these in this fandom, so. I'm doing Inktober 52 but with fanfics as I cannot draw. This week's prompt is home, and this is me simply writing what came naturally to me, so it probably doesn't make the most sense.
> 
> TW: PTSD - it's not the main focus, but it's there.  
> CW: Pretty grim description of WWI in the trenches. It's in italics if you want to skip over it - you can probably imagine what happened.
> 
> Oh, I also caved in and got tumblr! I'm haventacluewhatimdoing there too, and I do beta'ing (including brit picking) and sometimes take requests.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Bullets. There were bullets everywhere. The sound of gunfire was deafening. He barely managed to keep a firm grasp on his bayonet. Shells were exploding left or right, there had been a gas attack a mere hour before._

_The regiment leader held his hand up. He knew that as soon as it lowered, he was a dead man walking._

_It was a suicide mission, going over the top. But he had no choice. He would be shot for cowardice by his own side, or shot by the opposite for following an idiotic plan._

_The hand was raised slightly. He could hear his heart beating rapidly inside his chest. This was it. He was going to die._

_It was lowered. He scrambled over the top of the trench, running through the mud, praying to whatever was out there that he wouldn't step on a landmine._

_There was barbed wire everywhere, only made worse by the constant bombing. Corpses were littered everywhere. In a few mere moments he was bound to join them._

_A shell went off next to him, and when the dust settled, the soldier who was standing beside him had disappeared. The Captain closed his eyes, murmered a 'God bless you' and carried on forwards._

_He heard a click from underneath his foot. He knew what that meant. He was about to die. He should run. But he was frozen to the spot. Instead, he closed his eyes, waiting for the impact._

_"MOVE!" A voice yelled, before a body barrelled into him shoving him onto the ground. A loud bang, and then..._

The Captain bolted upright, shaking in a cold sweat. His breathing was erratic, his heart hammering quickly, and he gripped the bedsheets tightly in order to be anchored to the present.

He looked around him slowly, remembering that he wasn't on the front line, but in fact in Button House in the English countryside. There was a war on, but he wasn't on the front line anymore.

He breathed out slowly, glancing at the clock in the room. 0500 hours. He might as well get up then. No point in trying to sleep for a mere hour.

A quarter of an hour later, the Captain was strolling the grounds. It was a huge country house, and the family had been kind enough to offer it to the army as a remote base at the beginning of the war. That was 4 years ago.

It was June, so the sky was starting to brighten despite the early hour. The Captain let his thoughts flow freely through him, something he didn't have a chance to do often.

He thought of his home back in Wiltshire. It was a small cottage, nothing extravagant, left to him by his mother when she passed away. His father had wanted nothing to do with him, and had kicked him out of the family house on his 21st birthday. He hadn't spoken to any relative since.

It was a pretty thing, but it never really felt like home to the Captain. He had never understood the feeling of belonging everyone always talked about. He guessed that’s why he joined the army. He was only 17, too young to be fighting, but the need for troops was so desperate he got in anyway. They sent him to the front line.

He was back on English soil within 3 weeks.

He liked Button House. It was stately, a sense of grandeur present in every room, but also... welcoming. Homely, one might say. Most of the men didn't seem to share his sentiment, but there was something the Captain couldn't quite pin down about the place. Almost as if there was someone else there, watching over him.

He could see how others would find that unnerving, but the Captain found it reassuring. He didn't think it was God per se, but there was definitely something other-worldly going on in the house. The occasional flicker of lights and smell of smoke only confirmed his suspicions.

Sometimes he would talk out loud to himself, just in case there was anyone there. It must be a quiet life, he thought, reaching out to brush his hand over the leaves on a low hanging branch. Peaceful, but dreadfully boring. How would one amuse oneself? He hoped he wouldn't have to endure a fate like that.

The sun peeked up over the horizon. Ten minutes to six. The Captain made his way back to the house. The only place where he had ever really felt at home.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments make my day! I don't normally do introspection, so i'd love to know what you think!


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